


jewel of the heavens

by allechant



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Character Study, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24143509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allechant/pseuds/allechant
Summary: on the day he fell, he opened his eyes and realised that the world was filled with sin.
Relationships: Asmodeus/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 83





	jewel of the heavens

Existing was tiring.

Nothing ever changed. Years and centuries passed, and it was always the same people, the same problems, the same selfish wishes they nursed deep within their hearts – he grew tired of listening to their desires.

Lust was constant. That much he knew. Love was but a transient thing – mortals were fickle-minded and had no concept of eternity. One too many times he heard the fervent prayers of men who once swore to love forever, their gazes shifting at the turn of the decade, following the next object of their fleeting affections.

There was no such thing as love, not really. People didn’t love. They could worship him – they fell at his feet, ran their hands over his body, whispering that they loved him, _loved_ him – he smiled and drank in their praise but there was a hollowness in his chest that reminded him of just how shallow everything was.

But people lusted. They lusted for passion, for _life_ , for something that would give their miserable short existences some kind of meaning. That was why he was here. He was everything they yearned for – he was the first hedonist, a messiah who led the way to the promised land. He was pleasure, he was indulgence, he was sin.

Sometimes, he wished that people would just stop _wanting_. Would stop filling his head with desires and cravings he knew he could fulfil – would stop making him feel so _needed_ because it was so tiring going through the same motions every day.

He thought even when he was an angel and everyone adored him, they didn’t need him, not this way. Maybe anyone else would feel powerful, knowing that he held the lives and desires of multitudes in the palm of his hand, but he felt nothing.

He didn’t choose to become the Avatar of Lust. But he fell naturally, perfectly into the role, the former jewel of the heavens, the sparkling star who played Hell like a puppet on strings.

It was a feeling as old as the creation of the world, inescapable and inevitable. No one could break free from the chains of _want_ , but once in a while, he wished there would be someone to show him that maybe, just maybe, people could change.

* * *

When she came to the Devildom he hardly batted an eye.

She was human. There was nothing special about that. He had seen humans – seen too many of them, in fact. Nothing about her stood out in the slightest.

He admitted she was pleasant to look at, but in the same way one would consider a framed painting on the wall – unobtrusive and invisible. Compared to himself or any of his brothers she was but a shadow. If he blinked, she might just disappear.

But he watched as she charmed her way into his brothers’ good graces – _charmed_ , though she was nothing but a human with no powers of her own – and he found himself wondering what was so special about her, such that Levi was willing to allow her into his room and Mammon so desperately tried to monopolise her attention.

Even Lucifer gave her more leeway than he’d ever seen before. _Lucifer_ , the first among them, the morning star – the one who threatened them with bodily injury when they dared to even breathe in his direction. She intrigued him because she had no charm and that meant – that meant there was something about _her_ that drew his brothers in, and he simply couldn’t understand.

He continued to laugh and smile at her the way he always did but in the back of his mind he watched and waited, hoping to figure out the secrets of her ways. She was always sweet to him, always answered him with a bright smile and hopeful glances, and that confused him because there was no lust in her gaze.

When people spoke to him, it was always because they wanted him for one reason or another. Usually, it involved his body parts joining with their body parts, though at other times it was because someone had invoked his powers as the Avatar of Lust. Either way, that tense undercurrent of desire was always there in all the interactions he had, so he didn’t know how to respond to someone who looked at him with all the innocence of a new-born lamb. That was not a situation he was accustomed to.

One day he was summoned, and she brought forth his powers in a way that even Solomon couldn’t – that was when he acknowledged there was something special about her. She, the mortal who was able to resist his charms. And he thought that maybe through her, he could find a way to quieten the voices inside his head.

She never held it over him. Not that he would have minded, either way – though sometimes the cold sting of fear stabbed into his heart and he’d wake up from a restless dream, his fingers clenching silk sheets. Seeing her reminded him of just how _empty_ he was. How he sought carnal pleasures and lost himself in the mind-numbing fog that was his sin because otherwise, he’d just remember how little there was to him, how no one ever seemed to think he was anything _more_.

 _You wouldn’t even look at me if I weren’t so beautiful_. It was a thought that lingered in his mind, a sick reminder of how far he had fallen – she met his gaze and her eyes softened as she smiled, and he felt something twist in his gut.

* * *

She knocked on his door and he opened it, somewhat surprised that she came.

It was a mistake, really. A stupid mistake. He drank a little too much wine and for once he wasn’t in the mood to leave his room. But he was tipsy and almost lonely and suddenly all he wanted was the warmth of a familiar hand.

Not that he was one to admit he made a mistake. He was perfect, after all – wasn’t he? And perfect beings didn’t make mistakes. He let her come in and maybe the tipsiness was showing on his face because she looked at him with eyes filled with concern and he thought about how lovely she suddenly looked.

Yes. Lovely. Not beautiful, not pretty, not alluring – just lovely. He wished he could cradle something that fragile in his hands without breaking it, without causing it to fall into the depravity that was his sin. For once he would like to hold an innocent and not see their eyes darken with the desire that came with his presence. But he was flawed, his touch spread corruption and his wish never once came true.

He didn’t tell her what was on his mind. He was so used to hiding his true self, so used to barricading his thoughts behind a wall that even when he was drunk he’d never let slip the truths in his mind – instead, he asked her about her day, wanting to hear more of her voice. As always, he marvelled at the way she looked at him so openly. There was no ulterior motive, no hidden agenda, and it was refreshing.

She shared without any fear of how vulnerable she was. He could never understand how someone could be so careless, so unafraid of being hurt by their honesty.

When he smiled and asked if she could pick a favourite among the seven of them, there was a pause and he saw a pink flush spread across her cheeks and that was the only moment she ever seemed reluctant to answer his questions.

Perhaps if he was more lucid and not feeling so alone, he’d have teased her about it, pushed and tested her limits until she grew uncomfortable and found an excuse to leave his room, but he wasn’t in the mood for that today. Instead, he held out his arms and asked, with the faintest tremor in his voice, for a hug and he was surprised at how quickly she wrapped her arms around him, nestling her face in the crook of his neck. She was so warm, so human. He didn’t know anyone could be so soft.

He didn’t think twice about leaning down to press a kiss against her forehead. It was nothing like him – he was not gentle, nor was he kind. But she looked up at him with surprise in her gaze and again his gut twisted, a strange feeling – it didn’t quite hurt, but he didn’t like it either. She asked if he was okay. He told her that he wasn’t.

That night she slept with him. Not in the way he was used to, with skin against skin, gasps and cries of pleasure filling the air – she cuddled with him, her warm breath fluttering against his collarbone. He was almost drowning in her scent, and he found that for once when he closed his eyes, there were no nightmares.

After that, she seemed to seek him out more often, more than she did the others. He didn’t know why she suddenly took such an interest in him, but he wasn’t about to question it – he would gladly take any opportunity he could to observe her.

Her purity was truly the one thing he enjoyed the most about her. She reminded him of his past, of how things used to be before he fell. It wasn’t that he missed his old self or that he regretted his decision, but once upon a time his mind wasn’t so exhausted, and he was not yet exposed to the ugly truths of the world.

It was enviable to be pure. To be so unaware, so unknowing of everything else that went on around him. He wondered what it’d be like to look through her eyes and see the world the same way she did.

He found himself being gentle with her. Not gentle in his manner, because he was always gentle compared to his brothers, but with the way he interacted with her – the way his gaze lingered on her just a second too long at the breakfast table, the way the sound of her voice made his lips curve into a smile that for once didn’t hide any bitterness, the way his hands itched to run through her hair when she gave him that brilliant grin she seemed to save especially for him.

It was not often that he was soft. Even with his favourite lovers, he was always the one in control. He never took without consent, never hurt without permission. But he was the Avatar of Lust and he never left himself at the mercy of others.

When she came to him with tears in her eyes and her arms reaching for him, he instinctively wrapped himself around her and asked her who dared to make her _cry_ because he knew if he ever caught them he’d rip them to shreds, and he surprised himself with the depth of his anger – he hadn’t felt anything so genuinely in such a long time. But she shook her head and refused to tell him.

He offered her the next best thing, his room to shelter in, and that night when she curled up against him and rested her head on his shoulder, he felt a little twinge of _something_ in his chest. It wasn’t a feeling he was familiar with, and that made him uncomfortable – instead, he closed his eyes and leant his chin on top of her head and thought about how nice it would be if things stayed this way forever.

But there was no such thing as forever, at least not for humans. Mortals were like butterflies, transient delicate beings with wings that tore so _easily_. They whispered false promises to their lovers and spoke of eternity when their lives lasted no longer than the blink of an eye. She would never understand what forever really meant, and truthfully, sometimes he didn’t quite understand it either.

He asked her what she’d like if she could wish for anything in the world. She just looked at him and held onto his hands and whispered that she’d like for him to be truly happy, and he didn’t know how to interpret her words. _I’m already happy,_ he told her. She sighed and her fingers tightened around him and he wondered if he ought to take offence at her implying that he was _anything_ but satisfied with his life.

Deep down he knew that he wasn’t. But she wasn’t supposed to know anything about that. She was supposed to believe his façade and not ask too many questions, because he hated confronting the truth about how _hollow_ he was.

 _You could always be happier_. He was tempted to call her a fool, but she looked so hopeful and genuine that the words died on his tongue and he let his fingers slip between hers, their hands intertwining. It was comfortable being with her like this. When she looked at him so trustingly, he could almost convince himself that there was something more to his existence than just being a vessel for empty promises.

Maybe it was too naïve to hope for more. He was one of the seven demon princes of Hell – he knew better than anyone exactly how hopeless it was to hope because once the wheel of fate turned it was almost impossible to change its direction. He and his brothers tempted people to fall from the grace of the heavens and they revelled in how simple it was to grant the world in exchange for a soul.

But when he watched her slumbering so peacefully beside him with her lips slightly parted and her hand still grasping his, for one beautiful moment he allowed himself to wish that one day he might turn into the person that she thought he was.

**Author's Note:**

> um i guess it might be a bit ooc but idk man, i feel like there's a lot more to asmo than him just being a cheerful narcissist
> 
> yell at me on [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/dontenchantme)


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